The Times We Meet
by Tomyo Torou
Summary: Oneshoot about Sherlock and a certain woman he meets time after time. Just a tad fluffy and a bit of humor to mix in with the dull life, and what do we get? A random love story.


So, I wrote this because I scared my friend out of internet with my perverted head :P

Well, this isn't a SherlockxOC, because the girls mentioned here are real and going about.

I hope you enjoy, and please review if you like it, or not.. well, review anyway ^^

* * *

The Times We Meet.

The first time they had met, on that dark, rainy evening during a case, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just another dull woman. Sherlock hadn't looked at her twice.

The second time they met, she was with a blonde friend, and Sherlock had to look twice when she flipped a guy stealing the purse of her blonde friend. Yet he still didn't care much.

The third time, he bumped into her when he was chasing a criminal around London late at night. And he lost sight of her right away because of the chase.

The fourth time, she was a witness in a murder case where one of her old schoolmates was killed while she and her friends was watching. She wasn't crying, but she had a determined look on her face. She cracked the case together with Sherlock.

The fifth time, she was running across London with him and John, taking him straight the murderer. And she managed to keep up with him. Her long legs giving her the speed and agility to keep up with him in ways not even John could.

Slowly, but surely her form began to itch itself into Sherlock's brain. She was far from as dull as he first thought. Tall for her age, with long, curly brown hair with red in shades, and a side cut on the right side. Pale skin and thin lips. She wasn't like her red haired friend who could probably donate half her boobs to hospital and still have a good D-cup left, she barely had any fat on her body. However, her eyes intrigued him. Yellow, though the outer rim was green and the inner was blue. It was a spectacle in itself. Her eyes was always following everything around her, like him. Always watching, always knowing. She wore mostly black the times he had seen her, leather jacket to go with it. She fit it. Sherlock didn't think much more of it until John found him searching through internet for the woman. John asked if he liked her and he gave a snort. Obviously he wouldn't fall in love, it's a stupid thing. Her name did however stay in his head. Not English, Scandinavian. Malin, oh yes, short for Magdalena, Greek. By her obvious personality, he could already deduce that she worked in a kindergarten, but other than that, there was nothing.

The sixth time they met, she stumbled into his arms when she barely missed a bullet heading for her head. John took care of the bastard.

The seventh time, she was eating at a diner with another friend. Short, dark hair, a bubbly laugh and a serious love for anything with enough fat to freak out health freaks. They were joined by the red head from earlier and John seemed unable to stop ogling her. The one Sherlock stared at however, was far more interesting. The others was dull and easily readable, but her, he just couldn't read her. Of course, he could see she likes black and she likes accessories by the huge rings and the necklace to go by.

The eight time, the red head came to them, pleading at them to help her find her long haired friend. Sherlock accepted it before she even finished her sentence. John gave the red head friendly support while Sherlock began his usual snappy questioning. It took them five hours to find her, locked up and hidden in a old warehouse. Dull.

The ninth time they met, he stumbled upon her spying on her red haired friend dining with John, whom Sherlock was not spying on either. The two dining never noticed them, thankfully.

The tenth time, she tagged along when the red head came to see John. Both unfazed by the sheer amount of blood and body parts of the kitchen table. They seen it before. Apparently, Anatomy in Norway meant playing around with frozen pig chest and other already dead beings. Interesting.

The eleventh time, Sherlock found her sitting alone on a bench in the park and he gave her a somewhat strange, typical Sherlock Holmes support when she told him that her sister had been in an accident. She smiled when he tried to act more gentle than he ever could. She sees right through his acts.

The twelfth time they met, they ended up running around London looking for the red head, while John was in the hospital, badly injured. The criminal was apprehended outside of the house. The red head was on the top floor. The criminal survived, sadly. Lestrade wasn't too happy that Sherlock dropped the man out from second floor.

The thirteenth time they met, John had seized the opportunity to met his -now girlfriend- and trying to get Sherlock and the woman together, courtesy of the red head. Not a complete disaster.

The fourteenth time, the two was stuck in a small room for two days straight until John and Lestrade found them. She has changed her views on him, Sherlock notices.

The fifteenth time they meet, the diner seems so boring. Yet she isn't. She continues to ask him to her the stories, how he found the criminals. She isn't as dumb as he first thought, far from it. They agree to dine again in the future. John gives him a 'told you so' smile when he returns to their flat. He knows.

The sixteenth time they meet, John has been staying over at the red head's flat for a while. He is bored, and then she is there, giving him a challenge. They hit off right away. She finds the skull interesting too.

The seventeenth time, the red head and the woman comes to their flat, and they end up in a double date. John walks the red head home, and stays there for the night while Sherlock, instead of walking her home, walks home to his own flat with her. Interesting night indeed. Sherlock does not stop his own feelings anymore.

* * *

"Everything seems to have taken a great turn, hasn't it Sherlock?" Sherlock looks over at John, sitting in the chair, sipping tea. Sherlock nods. John no longer lives at the flat, the retired soldier lives with the red head. The ring on his finger gleams against the light from the fireplace. The detective nods.

"Yes John." they keep their friendship though, which isn't hard considering their own counterparts was childhood friends.

"Four years has passed since you two got together, I'm looking forward to the wedding, so please don't chicken out." John said. Sherlock just snorted.

"I never 'chicken' out John." Sherlock stated, face blank.

"I sure hope you wont, if you do, I'd have to kill you." John turned and smiled. The red head smiled back. It was, however, the woman behind her that Sherlock looked at.

"Please don't kill him, how would London be if our own detective didn't keep the undergrowth in check?" she asked. John chuckled and the red head laughed. Sherlock stared right back.

"Tedious, the inspector would never be able to stop it." he said.

"Sherlock, Lestrade is a capable officer." John argued.

"John.." Sherlock simply stared at his friend and former flatmate.

"Okay, so he needs a good push in the right direction from time to time, but at least he isn't like Anderson.. or Donovan." John said. Sherlock just groaned.

"Just saying the names lowers the IQ of everyone in the room, don't." John laughed. The red head nodded. Sherlock had learned she wasn't dull either. Though her mind was just about as close to crazy as John was crazy for her, she had a fantastic way of using her brain and she was equally smart as her friend. She was a lot like John. Born dark blonde, blue eyes, forms that could be taken right out of perfection. Good with her hands, creating everything from jewelry to writing books. Her name, however, was very Scandinavian, Torill, Norse actually, directly from Thor. But other than her sometimes very perverted outbursts, she was dull, but likeable. His own counterpart just smiled and came over. The flat wasn't as tidy as when John lived there, she wasn't much of a cleaning person, neither was her friend, much to John's frustration, but she liked to keep it somewhat tidy, though she tended to forget.

"Well, we better get a move on it then, got some things to finish." John stood up, placed the emptied cup on the table, smiling to Sherlock, and to her. The red head smiled too.

"I'm looking forward to it." she said. Her friend smiled.

"If the dress fits.." she laughed. The red head pouted.

"Not my fault.. my body betrays me." she complained. And no, it was her body in general, even Sherlock could see that, it was rather her torso, right where a certain woman's part was.

"See you later Sherlock." John called, then called his byes to them both before he and her now wife left.

"Well, I'm heading off to bed, please do try to go to bed at a reasonable time." she said, smiling at Sherlock.

"Of course." he stated, staring right back. It was rather okay for him, he didn't have a case, but he wasn't bored thanks to her.

* * *

The next time they met, the bells was ringing and John and his wife both looked like they had the time of his life and Mycroft looked he wanted flee to the other side of the planet. Her parents was sitting on the other side of the aisle, her mother was already sobbing, hooting away. Her father wasn't present, but only because he was leading her up to him. Hudson was sitting on the second row, drying a silent tear and smiling in happiness. Lestrade seemed more confused than when he was on any normal murder cases, probably because he couldn't fathom how Sherlock, of all people was about to get married. Anderson and Donovan wasn't present, obviously Sherlock didn't want them there, and she hadn't argued on it.

The last time they met, Sherlock was sitting in the garden with a book about bees, John on the other side of the table, writing something despite his old age. She was picking some flowers to place on the grave of her passed friend. Sherlock hadn't bored like he used to, boredom was rare after he had met her. John had obviously noticed, by the smile he had given him decades ago. A few days later, and Sherlock says farewell as his wife passes. Three years later, John passes and another four years until the great Sherlock Holmes takes his leave, leaving two children and five grandchildren.

* * *

Well, was it good? I hope it was good enough..

Reviews are appreciated :)


End file.
